Lips of an Angel
by harrys-girl-4-life
Summary: Fleur Delacour never thought that she would find love through the Triwizard tournament, but after she meets Harry Potter, that all begins to change. Will they be able to handle the ups and downs of the tournament...and life?
1. Je sais qu'il n'a pas fait!

**This story was written at the request of my dear new friend, tymes24. I hope you all like it!**

**Because I'm trying to follow canon, at least to some extent, some lines and scenarios are not mine. Please keep in mind they belong to JK Rowling, and I would never try to take credit for her incredible work.**

**Be forewarned, much of what Fleur says will be in French. I got the French from Google Translate, don't hate me if it isn't perfect. I won't be translating every sentence, either, but you should be able to understand it.**

**Please enjoy, and pretty please, leave a review!**

**Love,**

**harrys-girl-4-life**

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><p>"The champion for Beauxbatons is Fleur Delacour!"<p>

Fleur stood up before her name had finished leaving Dumbledore's lips, too excited to wait any longer. Excitedly, yet nervously, she swept gracefully to the top of the Hall, then disappeared through the door behind the staff table.

The room was lovely, she noticed as she entered. It was much smaller than the Great Hall, of course, but lovely nonetheless. The walls were lined with portraits of witches and wizards alike, and a fire was crackling pleasantly in the fireplace across from her.

Viktor Krum was leaning ominously against the mantelpiece, staring broodingly into the fire.

"Congratulations, Viktor," she offered, walking up to the fire and standing in its warmth.

He grunted in reply, not even looking at her. Affronted, she tossed her hair back from her face and huffed at him. She could feel the pride radiating from the Quidditch star, and she wanted nothing to do with such a rude person.

The door behind them opened, and Fleur turned, happy to have anyone in the room who wasn't Viktor Krum.

"Oh...er, hi. Congratulations," Cedric Diggory said bashfully, slightly thrown by her presence, but still unable to wipe the grin off his face. She smiled right back at him, used to boys being flustered while she was around. She was one quarter Veela, after all.

"Le champion de Hogwarts, félicitations!" She said in French, then shook her head at her slip-up. "Congratulations," she added throatily, when he looked confused. She was not at all used to speaking English, she still spoke primarily in French. That, however, led to many confused glances and repeated sentences in the other language, so Fleur was trying to get better about it.

"Thanks," Diggory replied, his grin growing still wider. He walked over and stood next to her near the fire, none of them speaking as they impatiently awaited further instruction.

After a moment or so, the door opened again, and Fleur looked around. She saw a dark-haired boy, a fourth year at most, enter the room with a stricken look on his face.

"What is it?" She asked confusedly, thinking perhaps he was there to fetch them. "Do zey want us back in ze hall?"

The boy just stared at her, opening his mouth to say something, then shutting it again. He looked oddly familiar, almost like she was supposed to know who he was. He was very cute, she supposed, even if he was a little young. His jet black hair and lightly tanned skin contrasted beautifully with his incredibly vibrant green eyes, and he had this look of innocence about him, which Fleur found quite endearing.

The door opened once again, and Ludo Bagman entered, walking up to the boy and grabbing his arm. He led him closer to the three champions before speaking.

"Extraordinary!" he said, squeezing the boy's arm. He then turned to Fleur, Diggory, and Krum, smiling at them in an oddly apprehensive way. "May I introduce, incredible as it may seem, the fourth Triwizard champion?"

"Le champion des Trois Sorciers quatrième?" Fleur repeated, shocked. There were only supposed to be three champions!

Even Viktor Krum straightened when Bagman announced it.

Fleur studied Bagman curiously, trying to decide if he was joking or not.

"Not a joke," he said, deciphering what she had been thinking from the look on her face. "Harry's name just came out of the Goblet of Fire!"

Harry! This was Harry Potter! That would explain why he looked so familiar. Goodness, he was cuter than she though he would be, for some reason.

"Zere must 'ave been some mistake," she said quietly, still studying the boy...er, Harry intently. She could now feel the waves of shock and panic rolling off of him, her perception of his emotions enhanced by Bagman edging ever closer with Harry.

"It's quite odd, but not a mistake!" Bagman replied, smiling at her.

Suddenly, the door flew open and people came flooding in. Madame Maxime, Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, Professor Karkaroff, and Mr. Crouch all rushed in, talking excitedly.

Fleur practically ran to her headmistress, hoping she would have some answers.

"Madame Maxime! Zey are saying zat zis boy is to compete also!" She exclaimed, gazing up at the impossibly tall woman and concentrating on speaking in English.

"What is ze meaning of zis, Dumbly-dorr?" She demanded, chest rising and falling imperiously.

"Yes, I'd rather like to know that myself, Dumbledore," Karkaroff added, his eyes flickering to Krum and back. "Why should the host school be allowed two champions?"

"C'est impossible! 'Ogwarts cannot have two champions! It is most unjust!" Madame Maxime agreed, resting her large, heavy hand on Fleur's shoulder.

"What happened to your Age Line, Dumbledore? It was supposed to keep out younger contestants!" Karkaroff continued angrily, his eyes cold.

"Now, now, Karkaroff, let us not go blaming Dumbledore. It's no one's fault but Potter's. He has done nothing just break rules and cross boundaries since he came to this school!" Snape interjected.

Fleur looked from Harry's young, frightened face to Snape's malice filled expression, shaking her head at Snape. She didn't like him one bit, she decided, he seemed to be terribly hateful...and ugly.

Professor Dumbledore gently took Harry's chin and turned his face, looking searchingly into his eyes, as if looking for the answer to some long-unsolved puzzle.

"Harry, did you put your name into the Goblet of Fire?" He asked, quite calm.

"No, sir," Harry answered, shaking his head and looking uncomfortable with everyone's eyes on him.

"Did you ask one of the older students to do it for you? One of the ingenious Weasley twins, perhaps?" Dumbledore asked, his face stoic, but his eyes twinkling as he mentioned the Weasley twins.

"No!" Harry said firmly, looking Dumbledore straight in the eyes.

"But...of course 'e is lying!" Madame Maxime protested.

"No, I'm not!" Harry exclaimed, turning to look up at her.

"What if Dumbledore made a mistake with the line?" Karkaroff asked.

"I assure you, Igor, Albus did not make a mistake," McGonagall said firmly.

"Then the boy is lying!" He exclaimed furiously.

"I'm not lying!" Harry said earnestly, looking back at Dumbledore.

"Of course 'e..." Madam Maxime began, but Fleur cut her off.

"No! 'E is not lying," she said quietly, speaking for the first time, her eyes never leaving Harry's face.

"Fleur! Qu'est-ce que tu racontes?" Madam Maxime asked, surprised that she had said anything.

"Il ne le faites pas, Madame. Il dit la vérité!"

"Oh? And 'ow can you be sure that 'e is telling the truth?"

"I can feel it!" Fleur replied, ignoring the professors who rolled their eyes at her and Krum and Diggory who gaped, shocked. She looked instead at Dumbledore, as realization flickered across his face.

"Ahh, you can feel it, Miss Delacour? Is it because..." he trailed off, leaving her to answer.

She nodded, her eyes going from Harry to Dumbledore quickly.

"Ahhh," he said again, clasping his hands in front of him. "I see! Well now it is certain, Harry is telling the truth, though I personally never doubted him."

"What? Headmaster, how could you possibly be sure?" Snape objected.

"Why, Miss Delacour said so, of course!" Dumbledore answered like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"So you take the word of this...this girl?" Snape stammered.

"Yes, of course! You feel his sincerity, don't you, Miss Delacour?"

"Oui. I mean...yes," she answered, eyes still flickering from Harry to Dumbledore.

"You see, Miss Delacour is one quarter Veela." Dumbledore announced, looking around as he explained. "Because of her Veela blood, she is exceptionally in tune with other's emotions. She, if close enough, can quite literally feel emotions rolling off of other people. Tell me, my dear, what do you feel from Mr. Potter?"

"Shock," Fleur said, eyes coming to rest on Harry's young, apprehensive face. "Fear, anger, confusion, and much sincerity, especially every time 'e tells you zat 'e is telling ze truth!"

"Is zis true, Fleur?" Madame Maxime asked, looking surprised.

"Oui, Madame! Je sais qu'il n'a pas fait! I know 'e did not do it," she repeated, more to herself than to anyone else.

"He is innocent," Dumbledore said firmly.

"Alright, he's innocent. He still cannot compete! It's much too dangerous!" McGonagall said nervously.

"I'm afraid that Mr. Potter must compete. The rules clearly state that those whose names come out of the Goblet of Fire are bound to compete." Barty Crouch said, speaking for the first time.

"Well, that's the end of it then!" Bagman said lightly, bouncing of his toes. "Harry must compete! The Triwizard Tournament now has four champions!"

"Then the Goblet of Fire must be set up again! I will resubmit the names of my students until each school has two champions!" Karkaroff demanded.

"I'm sorry, but that's not possible," Bagman said, not looking very sorry. "The Goblet has gone out and will not reignite until the start of the next tournament."

"Which Durmstrang with definitely not be participating in!" Karkaroff half-shouted. "I'm of half a mind to leave with Viktor now!"

"Empty threats, Karkaroff," growled a man near the door. Mad-Eye Moody's entry had gone unnoticed, and Fleur tried to hide her shudder as he clumped his way toward the fire. He clearly had a wooden leg, but he also had a most disturbing mechanical eye that's electric blue color seemed to pierce one's very soul. "You can't take your champion away, the Goblet's decision is legally binding. Convenient, huh?"

"Convenient?" Karkaroff spluttered, his hands curling into fists.

"Yes, convenient. Someone entered Potter's name...someone who knew very well that he'd have to compete if the Goblet spit his name out!"

"Evidently someone 'oo wanted to give 'Ogwarts too bites at ze apple!" Madame Maxime exclaimed.

"I agree, Madame!" Karkaroff agreed, bowing to her awkwardly. "I will be lodging complaints with..."

"Oh, save your damned complaints, Karkaroff! If anyone's got a reason to complain, it's Potter! Funny thing, though, I don't hear him whining like a little girl!" Moody growled.

"Why should 'e complain! Zis is a chance many would die for!" Madame Maxime said angrily. Fleur laid a small hand on her enormous arm, trying to calm her.

"Yeah, well maybe someone's hoping that Potter will die for it!" Moody shot back.

Fleur's eyebrows shot straight up at that. She hadn't thought about that, but now that she did, she was frightened for the confused boy in front of her.

"What a thing to say!" Bagman said nervously, trying to break up the uncomfortable silence that had followed Moody's words.

"Please, we know that Moody considers a morning wasted if, by lunch, he hasn't found six plots to murder him. Will you be allowing him to inspire such paranoia into your students, Albus?" Karkaroff glowered.

"Paranoia my arse!" Moody exclaimed. "Whoever entered Potter's name is skilled...very skilled. They had to confund a highly powerful magical object well enough that it would believe that it needed to choose four people! No mere teenager could have done this! I suspect that whoever did it entered Potter's name under a fourth school, so that he would automatically be chosen."

"Well, Moody, you seem to have given this a great deal of thought," Karkaroff sneered.

"It's my job to think as Dark wizards do, Karkaroff, or have you forgotten?"

"That is enough!" Dumbledore said firmly, holding up both hands. Fleur watched as Harry visibly relaxed, feeling him grow less panicked as Dumbledore took control of the situation. "We do not know how this situation came to be, but since the Goblet's decision is magically binding, we have no choice but to accept it. Both Cedric and Harry must compete, there is no other option."

"But Dumbly-Dorr..." Madame Maxime began to protest, as Fleur held her breath, wishing she wouldn't say anything else. Fleur was thrilled to be chosen to represent her school, and she was not entirely pleased that there was now an extra person to contend with, but the boy across from her was so sweet and so sincere that she couldn't possibly be too angry. She just wished that everyone would stop making such a fuss and finally move on.

"My dear Maxime, if you have an alternative, I would be delighted to hear it."

Bagman rubbed his hands together as everyone searched for something to say.

"Well, let's crack on then, shall we? Our champions need their instructions! Barty?"

Mr. Crouch shook his head, seemingly coming out of deep thought.

"Certainly. The first task..." he trailed off. Fleur studied him, noticing that he did not look well, he had dark shadows under his eyes and his skin was thin and papery, not to mention heavily wrinkled. He cleared his throat before continuing. "The first task is designed to test your daring. You will not know what it is ahead of time, so remember this. Courage in the face of the unknown is a very important quality, very important indeed. The first task will take place on November the twenty-fourth, in front of the other students and a panel of judges. Champions may not ask for nor accept help of any kin from their teachers for any of the three challenges. They will face the first task with only a wand, and they will receive instruction concerning the second task once the first is completed. Because of the difficult and time-consuming nature of these challenges, champions are exempted from end-of-year exams. I believe that is all, Albus?"

"I believe so," Dumbledore replied, looking slightly worried as he studied Mr. Crouch. "Barty, are you sure you won't stay at the castle tonight?"

"No, Dumbledore, thank you. I must get back to the Ministry, it is a very busy, very difficult time and I've left young Weatherby in charge. He's terribly enthusiastic. Terribly."

Harry was trying very hard not to laugh at this, Fleur noticed.

"Have a drink before you go, at least?" Dumbledore pressed.

"Yes, do. It's much more exciting here at Hogwarts than it is back in the office!" Bagman added.

"I think not, I really must go," Crouch replied in a clipped tone.

One by one, everyone filed out until only Fleur, Harry, and Madame Maxime were left. Harry appeared to be lost in thought, gazing blankly at a spot in the carpet and never blinking.

"Aller plus loin, Madame. Je vais rencontrer avec vous plus tard," Fleur said quietly.

"Très bien, mon cher. Bonne nuit," Maxime replied before walking out.

"Bonjour, 'Arry," Fleur said, jerking him out of his thoughts when she gently laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Oh!" Harry exclaimed in surprise. "Er...hi."

They stood in awkward silence for a moment as they both tried to come up with something to say.

"I...er...thank you, for sticking up for me. It was really nice of you to tell them I was being honest...oh, and that emotion sensing thing? Bloody cool," Harry said after a moment.

"Ah, you are welcome, and thank you," Fleur replied with a light smile.

"No, really. I think you just saved my arse," Harry said, turning to look at her.

Fleur's smile slipped off her face as their eyes met. Harry had the most beautiful eyes that she'd ever seen, she decided, and she really didn't mind having to look down a little bit to see them.

"You are welcome, 'Arry. I do not know 'ow many people will believe zat you did not enter your name, but at least you know zat I do," she said, their eyes remaining locked.

"Thanks. Best of luck," he offered.

"Merci. Best of luck to you."

"Thanks. Well...goodnight."

"Goodnight."

After another moment or so, Harry turned and slowly left the room, leaving Fleur alone.

"Bon seigneur, quelle nuit," she said softly, then flicked her wand at the lights and left the room.

What a night, indeed.


	2. Ron's not exactly reasonable

**Here we are, chapter 2! Most of my ideas come from the wonderful tymes24, by the way. **

**I'm sorry, but sporadic are as good as my updates get. My life is genuinely terrible right now, so please, bear with me.**

**Please review! Reviews make my days a little bit better. :)**

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><p>After telling Fleur goodnight, Harry slowly left the small room that they had occupied, just to run up the main staircase and stop on the first floor landing. He turned around and looked over the railing, watching as Fleur emerged from the room and walked through the castle doors. Through a small window, he could see her walking across the grounds, her long, silvery-blonde hair bathed in moonlight. With a half-smile, he watched and waited until he saw her disappear inside the Beauxbatons carriage, then he began to make his was up to Gryffindor tower.<p>

He'd only taken a few steps in that direction when his mind began reeling again. For the life of him, Harry could not understand why his name had been entered in the Goblet of Fire. It just didn't make sense. Why on earth would anyone want to enter him in some dangerous competition that hadn't taken place in years? Was someone really hoping that he would be somehow killed through it? Was someone just trying to isolate him from everyone else, make him lonely, get inside his head? And why on earth would a beautiful, part Veela woman be paying any attention to him, let alone be taking his side and using her powers of empathy to stand up for him?

Harry didn't know any of the answers to any of those questions, all he knew was that they were making his head spin.

"Well, well, well!" Exclaimed a voice, startling Harry out of his thoughts. It was the Fat Lady, he realized, once he realized where he was. "I heard the Triwizard Tournament is happening once again, isn't that right, Violet?"

"That's right," a pale, wizened witch replied, doing her level best to sound as snobbish as possible. "Who's been chosen as champion, then?"

"Balderdash," Harry said flatly, giving her a pointed look.

"What? I've never heard of anyone named 'Balderdash' before!" The witch exclaimed, thoroughly confused.

"No, no, dear. It's the password," the Fat Lady informed her, swinging forward on her hinges to let Harry through. Before he could so much as think about stepping through the portrait hole, however, he was nearly blasted backwards by the outburst if noise from the common room when they saw him, before at least a dozen pairs of hands reached out and grabbed him to pull him inside.

"Bloody hell, Harry! How did you manage it?" Dean shouted as Harry was dragged through the portrait hole.

"I didn't!" Harry shouted back, but everyone laughed at him.

"Of course you didn't. Blimey, mate, how'd you trick the age line?" Seamus asked, appearing next to him.

"I didn't!" Harry replied again, sighing inwardly.

Lee Jordan suddenly appeared and draped an enormous Gryffindor banner around his shoulders, all the while prattling on about how proud he was that Gryffindor would be represented in the tournament, and completely ignoring Harry's protests.

After a few minutes of that, Harry was beginning to seriously consider beating the next person who approached him over the head with their own arm. Before he could do so, however, both of his arms were seized and he was dragged to a somewhat emptier corner of the common room. He whipped his head around to see who his kidnappers were, and was relieved to see the Weasley twins.

"How'd you do it, mate?" George asked as soon as they had released Harry from their clutches.

"More importantly, how'd you do it without getting a beard?" Fred asked, rubbing his hand along his jaw.

Harry sighed heavily.

"I didn't do it, I didn't put my name in that goblet!"

"You didn't?" Fred asked, looking so surprised that Harry had to wonder if it had ever even occurred to him that Harry hadn't done anything to get his name in the goblet.

"How the hell did it get there, then?" George demanded.

"I dunno, but Moody reckons someone did it hoping that I'd die during one of the tasks," Harry told them grimly.

"Bloody hell," both twins said, looking at each other in surprise. Fred opened his mouth to say something else, but he was cut off.

"Harry! Oh, at least if it couldn't be me, it's a Gryffindor!" Angelina Johnson exclaimed as the three chaser girls swooped in on their little group.

"Yeah, you can pay Diggory back for that last match, now!" Katie Bell shrieked excitedly.

"At least tell us how you did it, Harry!" Alicia Spinnet asked, grinning at him.

"I didn't do it, girls. Really, I didn't." Harry was getting very tired of this endless questioning.

"But...you must have!" Alicia said, confusion evident on her face.

"How else would it have gotten there?" Angelina asked.

"Harry says that Moody reckons someone else did it," Fred piped up.

"Yeah, someone who's hoping that someone else offs him!" George added, looking rather angry about the words he was saying.

Harry nodded at them, thankful that he didn't have to explain things one more time.

"Oh my God, you poor thing!" Katie exclaimed, gripping Harry's arm with both hands.

"That's awful!" Angelina agreed, the twins and Alicia nodded their agreement with her.

"Wait...you actually believe me?" Harry asked, floored.

"Of course we believe you, mate!" George said, clapping him on the shoulder.

"We dunno how many other people will, but we know you wouldn't lie to us," Fred agreed. "Besides, someone throwing your name in a goblet and hoping you get killed because of it? That's so batty that it could only happen to you."

"Yeah, and the theory is so paranoid that only Moody himself could have come up with it," George added.

"So, of course we believe you!" Fred exclaimed, grinning and throwing an arm around his twin's shoulders.

"We believe you too, Harry!" Alicia said, gesturing to herself and the other two girls, who nodded their agreement.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Harry exclaimed. "At least you lot believe me, everyone's been driving me barmy. I really didn't do anything and no one will listen..." Harry trailed off when he spotted a small, bushy haired figure sitting on the bottom stair of the boys' staircase.

"Well, we're listening, Harry. Your team has your back, remember that!" Katie said, squeezing his arm before finally pulling her hand away.

"Apparently, we just have to keep you from getting killed before the first challenge. Of course, knowing you, that could be difficult," Angelina said with a smirk.

"Thank you, thank you so much! Bloody hell, I have to go, but...I'll see you at practice!" Harry excused himself and made his way over to Hermione as quickly as he could, which was difficult, what with everyone trying to talk to him. "Hermione, thank Merlin you're here!" He exclaimed when he reached her. He opened his mouth to say something else, but she held up a hand to stop him.

"Harry, did you or did you not put your name in the Goblet of Fire?" She asked, looking him square in the eye and planting her hands firmly on her hips.

"No, 'Mione, of course I didn't!" Harry exclaimed. "I didn't do it, and now Moody thinks that someone's hoping I'll get myself killed, and..." He was cut off by Hermione throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him so tightly that he thought his lungs might burst.

"It's okay, Harry, you don't need to say anything else. I believe you," she said, her voice slightly muffled by his shoulder.

"Thanks, Hermione," he replied, breathing a sigh of relief as he returned his best friend's hug. "I...er, have you seen Ron?"

Hermione pulled away from him, looking distinctly nervous. Harry's heart immediately sank, he knew what her reaction must mean.

"He...um...he went up to your dormitory," she said, shifting uncomfortably.

"He's angry, isn't he?" He asked flatly.

Hermione nodded, looking rather upset.

"He's probably going to yell at you," she said, glancing up the stairs as if waiting for Ron to stomp down the stairs and punch someone.

"Brilliant," Harry said, shaking his head. "Just what I need right now."

"No matter what he says, Harry, you just keep telling the truth. We both know how Ron can be, so just be honest and hope to Merlin that he listens to you like he should," Hermione said sternly.

"You know I will, Hermione. I just hope he'll believe me."

"He'd better! You, lie and cheat your way into a stupid competition? Never. More importantly, you, lie to your best friends? Don't be daft."

"Yeah, well, of course you know I'd never lie to you, but Ron's not exactly..." Harry trailed off, unsure of what word to use to accurately describe Ron.

"Reasonable?" Hermione offered.

"Yeah, he's not exactly the most reasonable person I've ever met, you know?"

"Oh, I know. Still he's your best friend, he ought to listen to you."

"I hope so," Harry replied with a sigh.

Hermione looked at him for a moment before attacking him with another fierce hug, then darting up to her bedroom. Harry took a deep breath, then tromped up the stairs to find Ron. He tried to unwrap the Gryffindor banner that Lee had tied around him, but it was tied very tightly and was being very stubborn. With every step up the staircase Harry grew more annoyed until he finally reached the top step, ripped the banner off at last, and threw open the dormitory door.

"Bloody people tying me up in banners," he muttered, throwing the banner into the corner and slamming the door behind him.

"Congratulations," a dull voice said from the bed next to his. Harry spun around to find Ron sprawled out across his four-poster, still fully clothed and wearing a sullen expression on his face.

"What the hell do you mean, congratulations?" Harry demanded, trying not to sound as annoyed as he was, but failing completely.

"No one else got across the Age Line, not without getting a beard. Not even Fred and George. How'd you manage it, the Invisibility Cloak?" Ron asked in somewhat of a monotone, refusing to look Harry in the eye.

"No, I didn't use the bloody Invisibility Cloak, because I didn't put my name in the goblet! The cloak wouldn't have gotten me over the damn line, anyway," Harry replied, exasperation evident in his voice.

"Oh, right. I thought you would have at least told me, let me try too. I mean, the cloak would've covered both of us!"

"I didn't do it, Ron."

"Then who the bloody hell did?"

"I dunno!" Harry exclaimed. As melodramatic as the truth sounded, it had been enough for a few people, so he decided to say it again. "Moody reckons that someone's trying to kill me...or at least, they're hoping I die because of it."

Ron's eyebrows shot up until they almost disappeared into his hair, and his ears began turning rather red.

"It's fine, you know, you could have told me the truth," he said, sitting up as he grew more agitated. "I'd understand if you didn't want everyone else to know but really? Me? You shouldn't have to lie to me!"

"I'm not lying, Ron! I'd never lie to you! I don't want to be a part of the bloody tournament."

"Yeah? That sure isn't stopping you! Dumbledore's still letting you enter, there's a thousand Galleon prize, plus you don't have to take end-of-year exams, either? Yeah, sounds like something that I'd hate to be a part of," Ron spouted angrily, his ears flaming red now.

"I'd much rather have a normal year, for once, thank you very much! I didn't put my name in that goblet, Ron. I swear to Merlin I didn't."

"Yeah? You said this morning that you would have done it last night and nobody would have seen you!" Ron said, standing up and pacing back and forth. "I'm not stupid, you know!"

"Yeah? Then you should really be in Muggle films, because you're terribly good at acting stupid."

"Oh yeah?" Ron asked angrily, stopping his pacing. "Just go to bed, Harry, I'm sure you have to be up early for some photo call or something."

"Don't tell me what to do! Don't pretend like you're my mum, Ron!" Harry exclaimed, completely fed up with Ron's childishness.

"How the hell would you know if I was acting like your mum, Harry? Its not like you'd know what your mum was like!" Ron shot back.

"Fuck you!" Harry shouted, thoroughly pissed.

"No, fuck you, you liar!" Ron yelled back before wrenching the hangings shut around his bed and leaving a fuming Harry standing by himself in the middle of the dormitory.

Harry shook his head as he stared at the hangings around Ron's bed, the hangings that were now hiding the person Harry had thought was his best mate.

"Hey, mate," a familiar voice came from behind him. Harry turned around to see Neville Longbottom grinning at him, a butterbeer in each hand.

Harry sighed. He hadn't even heard the door when Neville came in, and this was just what he needed, another bloody person to try and explain himself to.

"Hey, Neville. Come to ask me how I managed to get my name in that damn goblet?" Harry asked, a little more gruffly than he had anticipated.

"Not really," Neville replied, his grin fading as he studied Harry's expression. "Are you doing alright? You look...furious."

"I'm fine," Harry said, his tone clipped as he turned away from Neville and began digging through his trunk for his pajamas.

"Like hell you are," Neville replied, setting the butterbeers atop his bedside table and also looking for his pajamas. "Your hands are shaking like they do after a Quidditch game, you're snapping at me and I've only been in here for two seconds, and your face is redder than a Weasley's hair."

Harry turned around, pajamas in hand, as he stared at Neville in surprise.

"How would you be able to tell any of that?" He asked.

"Live with a bloke for four years, you pick up on a few things," he answered with a shrug.

"Maybe you do, but not everyone does," Harry replied darkly, shooting a glance over at Ron's curtained bed before ripping his shirt over his head and pulling on his pajama shirt.

"Ahh, Ronald Weasley strikes again," Neville said, understanding becoming evident on his round face.

"You could say that," Harry agreed, pulling on his pajama pants and flopping down on his bed.

"He thinks you entered your name into the goblet, doesn't he?"

Harry nodded sadly.

"And he won't listen to you when you tell him that you didn't?"

"Nope," Harry replied as a pajama clad Neville perched himself on the edge on Harry's bed and handed him one of the butterbeers.

"Stupid git" he said, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well, I sort of saw it coming."

"You shouldn't have had to. He's supposedly your best mate. He's supposed to believe you no matter what. It's what friends do," Neville replied firmly.

"Yeah, well, he doesn't," Harry said, taking a sip of his butterbeer.

"He should."

Both boys were silent for a few moments.

"Neville, do you believe me?" Harry asked quietly.

"Of course I believe you, Harry. Even you should have been able to figure that much out by now," Neville replied, chuckling.

Harry couldn't help but smile at the good-natured crack at his general failure to be at all observant.

"But why? I didn't tell you anything!"

"Look, Harry. We may not be best friends or anything, but I know you well enough to know that you would never lie to me...or any of your friends, for that matter. You would never bother coming up with some elaborate scheme just to enter your name in some stupid contest, even though that's exactly what everyone thinks you did. If you say you didn't do it, which I'm sure you have at least a hundred times tonight, then I believe you."

Harry just stared at Neville for a moment, letting his words sink in.

"Thanks," he finally said, even though he knew it was totally inadequate to express the relief he felt from knowing that he had one more person on his side.

Neville just nodded at him and took another sip of his butterbeer.

"Ron really is a git, you know," Neville said after a couple of minutes.

"Yeah, I know, believe me. We've fought before, but never like this. He...he even made a couple of remarks about my dead mum!" Harry told him, fighting back the anger that came with the memory of Ron's words.

"Stupid bastard," Neville replied, shaking his head.

"Yeah...I mean, making remarks about my dead parents? That's a new low."

"Even for him," Neville agreed, then grew quiet.

"Why the hell are you so observant and understanding all of a sudden?" Harry asked bluntly.

"Maybe its not all of a sudden. Maybe I've always been like this and you've just never noticed."

"I...I never thought of that," Harry admitted.

"You know, Harry...I never knew my parents either. I think that maybe I understand the way you think because we both know what it's like to never know our parents. I dunno, but maybe."

"Is that why you live with your gran?" Harry asked, a few of the puzzle pieces clicking into places.

"Yeah. I love her, and all, but it's not the same as having real parents, you know?"

"Yeah, I know. You should see the Muggles I was raised by, it's a miracle I'm still alive!"

"I've heard a couple stories, from Hermione mostly," Neville told him with a small smile.

"Hermione told you about them?" Harry asked, surprised. He'd never seen Hermione and Neville interact, at least, not outside of Potions.

"Just a couple of things, really, she didn't think you'd mind," Neville hurried to explain, looking a bit nervous.

"Calm down, mate, it's fine! I don't mind that she told you, I'm just surprised. I've never seen the two of you together, at least, not outside of Potions."

"We study together on Wednesday nights. I reckon Hermione's the only reason I'm passing most of my classes," Neville explained, blushing lightly.

"Me too," Harry said, smiling. He chose to ignore Neville's blushing...for now. "That explains where she always disappears to."

"She doesn't think you put your name in the goblet either, you know. She told me earlier, on the way back to the common room from dinner."

"I know," Harry replied. "I saw her right before I came up here. She nearly hugged me to death."

Neville laughed.

"Yeah, she does that," he said with a grin.

"Know who else believes me?"

"Who?"

"Fleur Delacour."

"The Beauxbatons girl?"

"Yeah."

"The Veela one?"

"Mmhmm."

"Bloody hell!"

"I know, I expected her to hate me, but no. She's actually really nice, not to mention..."

"A total knockout?"

It was Harry's turn to blush, now.

"Yeah," he agreed. "She's gorgeous, all right. Plus, she has some cool empathy power thing that apparently comes with being a Veela. She can literally feel the same emotions as the people around her, so she used that to try and convince all the teachers that I'm innocent."

"Bloody hell," Neville said again. "Not only is she hot, she used her powers to stand up for you?"

"Yeah."

"Damn. You lucky bastard." Neville said, even though he didn't actually sound at all jealous.

Harry laughed.

"Yeah, well, I was pretty well shocked. I'm sure I must have looked like an idiot, I usually do."

"Can't argue that one, mate."

"Hey!" Harry exclaimed in mock horror, smacking Neville with a pillow.

"You said it first, not me! I was just being a good friend and agreeing with you!"

Neville laughed as he stole Harry's pillow and propped himself up with it, stretching out across from Harry just like Ron had done so many times. In fact, Harry couldn't help but think that everything Neville was doing was what Ron would normally have done. The way he was supporting him, joking with him, even talking about girls with him...only, Neville was being much more good-natured about everything. He also couldn't help thinking that maybe this was what a real best mate was supposed to be like. Someone like Hermione, someone who stood by you no matter what, without letting irrational jealousy or any other stupid thing get in the way.

That in mind, he leaned back against the headboard of his bed, propping himself up with a couple pillows before taking his last pillow and throwing it at Neville.

"Shove off, Neville. You would have looked just as stupid as I did," he said with a grin, taking a sip of his now half-empty butterbeer.

"Knowing me, I would have been ten times worse," Neville replied ruefully.

"Now that one I can't argue, mate," Harry said, trying to keep a straight face as he paraphrased Neville's earlier remark.

"Oh, shut it, you prat," Neville replied, trying to look angry, but failing when Harry made a stupid face at him. Both boys dissolved into laughter, and as Neville began to tease him about how sure he was that Harry'd been falling all over himself around Fleur, Harry allowed himself to think that maybe, just maybe, Neville would turn out to be a better best mate than Ron had ever been.

That, however, was the last time Harry thought about Ron for the rest of the night.


End file.
